


Inside Out

by orphan_account



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 03:24:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2176233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Kelly wakes up in a hospital bed after being shot at a protest</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inside Out

When he woke up, everything was white.

Jack wondered if he had died, but when he took a breath he knew that he couldn’t have. Death couldn’t possibly hurt that much.

There’d been a protest, and something had gone wrong. A fight had broken out. Things got out of control. The sound of a gunshot pierced the air, and then–

And then. He felt the heat of it first, a white-hot burst that knocked him off his feet before the sharp, slicing pain flooded through him all at once. He could feel the blood leaking from him, so he balled his fist against his belly, curling in on himself as if to try to keep his soul from pouring out with the rest of him. And then there were voices, frantic voices, and Denton’s arms around him, lifting him off the ground while he whimpered like a child.

Things had gotten hazy after that, and the world had slipped from his view. But he knew that it was morning now and that he was in a hospital; safe and alive and more indebted to Bryan Denton than he’d ever know how to repay.

Jack focused on his breathing for another few moments. The white ceiling overhead was immaculate, he noted, untouched by water-stains or vermin or the yellowing of tobacco smoke. Objectively, it was a perfectly good ceiling. Personally, he thought it lacked character.

 _You’ve been shot_ , something in the back of his head reminded him. There was a whole slew of emotions connected to that, a whole mess of guilt and terror combined with the smallest ounce of regret that he hadn’t just died then and there, so he shoved them all to a back corner of his brain and sat up to examine his injury.

Pain flooded through him, and he gasped and fell back against the mattress.

“You’re awake,” stated a voice to his left.

“Yeah, no kidding,” he griped, and turned his head to face his partner.

David was sitting cross-legged in a small wooden chair, with an open book spread across his lap. He looked exhausted. His hair was mussed like he’d been running his hands through it all night, and the bags beneath his eyes were dark as bruises.

“You look like hell,” Jack ribbed weakly.

He hoped Dave would laugh or roll his eyes - anything to get that sad, scared expression off his face - but all he did was reply “Likewise,” in a flat tone.

Jack sat up on his elbows, wincing a little at the pain the movement caused.

“How long’ve I been out?” he asked.

“Not that long,” David said quietly. “It’s Sunday. You slept through yesterday, but that was all.”

He went back to fiddling with the book on his lap. Jack wondered if he’d actually managed to read any of it since Friday. When Dave worried, it tended to take up his entire brain.

“We were afraid you wouldn’t wake up,” David added, his eyes still cast downward.

Jack huffed out a laugh. “Nah, you’re still stuck with me. Takes more than a bullet to get rid of Jack Kelly.”

“That’s not funny,” David said sharply, snapping the book shut and glaring reproachfully.

Jack shrugged. In the three years that had passed since they’d taken down the World, he still sometimes had trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that there were people who gave a damn whether he lived or died.

“You been here all night?” he asked, eager to change the subject.

David shook his head. “They wouldn’t let me. I got here earlier this morning.”

He slid out of the chair and sat down on the edge of Jack’s bed. “I had to lie and say I was your brother, but …” he looked down again, and when he continued, his voice was soft. “I had to see you, you know? It was killing me, not knowing if you were … If I’d never …”

Jack took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Looks like I made a liar outta you after all,” he said, treading carefully.

David laughed a little at that. “No, just improving the truth. You’re practically family anyway,” he reasoned.

“Yeah,” Jack agreed. And then, because he was Jack Kelly and reckless and had almost died two days ago, he threw himself far beyond his level of comfort and added, “I mean, if you were a girl I’d’ve married you by now.”

David inhaled sharply, and his grip on Jack’s hand tightened for a moment, but he didn’t say anything in return.

“You had to have known that,” Jack added desperately, panicked that he’d misinterpreted three years of shared secret glances and kissing in back alleys only to lose the one connection that meant the most to him.

“You just never struck me as the marrying type, that’s all,” David said in the tight, breathy tone he got when he was trying not to cry.

Jack pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. “Yeah, well you’re a terrible influence. Give it a few years, and you might even make an honest man out of me.”

David smiled a little at that. “Stick around for that long, and I just might,” he promised.

They sat in silence for the next few minutes, holding each other’s hands and taking in the comfort of the other’s presence.

David was the one to shatter the quiet, sighing softly and rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

“I should go,” he admitted, and Jack nodded. He doubted Dave had stopped to wake his parents on his way out to tell them where he was going, though he’d be surprised if they hadn’t figured it out for themselves.

“The rest of my family will want to hear from you as soon as they can,” David babbled as he stood and began to gather his things, “but for now I’ll tell them you’re alright.”

It was such a small word to encompass everything that had happened within the past few days, but Jack couldn’t think of a better way to express it. Things could have been better, but they also could have gone a lot worse, and he’d survive this the way he survived everything else.

David leaned down and kissed him gently on the forehead.

“Get some rest,” he said quietly, “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Jack warned, and David laughed. Jack let the sound of it wash over him, knowing that the sense of regret he felt toward not dying paled with the knowledge that it would mean never being able to make David laugh again.

“I’m the honest one, remember?” David reassured as he turned to leave, and Jack stared after his retreating form until he disappeared from view.

**Author's Note:**

> My sister’s freshman-year roommate had a friend who got shot by a mugger. When I met her, she told me the whole story in very graphic detail (and showed me her bullet hole. It was HUGE)


End file.
